


Blood, Brains, and Bandages: An Apocalypse on Baker Street

by Tindomerelhloni



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Parentlock, Zombielock, Zombies, mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2529923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tindomerelhloni/pseuds/Tindomerelhloni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A vaccine has mutated and has created a plague of the living dead. </p><p>*Disclaimer!!! I am NOT a zombie fan, I have never watched a zombie movie, show, or played a zombie game in my life. So please do not accuse me of stealing this idea, as I am 100% creating it. Thank you very good much, I'll see you in the loo*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RSMelodyMalone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RSMelodyMalone/gifts), [MissWholockian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWholockian/gifts), [Johnlockthedoors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlockthedoors/gifts).



> Forgive the crack at Americans. I am American, and I thought it was funny.
> 
>  

**_"FUCK"_** John swore, shoving his phone into his pocket. Sherlock wouldn't pick up.  With shaking hands he turned the volume up on the telly. The scenes in front of him shook him to the bone.  Hundreds of bodies, twitching, changing on the ground. News reporters abandoning their posts, running to safety. Well, what was left of safety.  The news was everywhere, and John couldn't believe it. He had always thought that things like this only happened in video games, or those stupid movies they played around Halloween.

 _ **"Zombie Apocalypse? Death toll unknown. Walking dead roaming the streets"** _ scrolled across the bottom of the TV screen. John cringed and turned off the TV as the current news reporter was cornered by two... creatures. Her blood curdling screams echoed through his head.

 _"Why of all days, did I forget to take my gun with me?"_ After pacing the clinic for ten solid minutes, John walked carefully over to the now locked, glass doors of the clinic. Patients and doctors alike, were cowering in corners, barricaded in exam rooms, John had even sedated a few people who wouldn't calm down.

A few... zombies... _"Fuck, am I really calling them that?"_ where shuffling around aimlessly outside. From this side of the glass they didn't seem too bad. More like severely depressed people, wandering around. John knew better than to believe that. He had seen enough on the telly... and the screams were still etched into his mind.

 _"I wonder if these glass doors will hold..."_ He muttered to himself, as the room was empty. John counted 3.. Zombies… outside. No, make that four. Another one was wandering slowly up the street from the direction of the subway. He shuddered thinking of all the people stuck down there.

This Zombie was different. He looked to be dragging something heavy behind him. As he grew closer John’s heart flew up into his throat, his hands went cold as ice, and he sank to his knees. This particular zombie was wearing a long coat, and a blue scarf.

_“Sherlock… So this is why you wouldn’t answer your phone. I assume zombies don’t answer phones.”_

Sherlock.. no.. his body… drew closer, shuffling aimlessly down the street. Zigzagging this way and that. Still dragging what looked like a body bag, that was tangled around his right leg. John couldn’t bear to watch anymore. He turned around and pressed his back up against the glass and gave in to the hot tears that were pooling up behind his lids.

This was all too much, John shook with angry sobs. He had a clinic full of people that needed help, limited supplies, no gun… and now Sherlock. John was disturbed out of his pool of self pity by a faint rhythmic tapping on the glass opposite him.

He slowly turned around, and found himself face to knee with Sherlock. Looking up he gasped. Sherlock was winking and pointing to the door mouthing _“Let-Me-In.”_ John sprang up, and motioned for the side door and Sherlock nodded his understanding.

Running pell-mell to the side door, John yanked it open, and pulled Sherlock in by his scarf. Trying to shut the door he cursed, with difficulty he pulled the bag in after Sherlock, and slammed the door shut, locking it before he spun to look at his husband.

_“Why the FUCK didn’t you answer your phone, Sherlock? I thought… God, Sherl…”_

_“John, I’m sorry.”_ Sherlock wrapped his arms around John in a tight embrace. _“But do you see any other … Zombies…”_ Sherlock said distastefully, _“Talking on their mobiles? It was hard enough getting here, almost blew my cover the last time you called. Thankfully, these things make Anderson look smart.”_

John chuckled, suddenly feeling happy. Sherlock was safe. Half of his small family was safe… Family is all that mattered to John, the world could go to shit, but Sherlock was safe. Holding Sherlock at arms length he surveyed his disheveled husband. Blood seemed to be smeared on all exposed skin, there was even a bit of entrails hanging out of his pocket, but John couldn’t see a scratch on him.

 _“I saw the news, and knew you would be stuck here…”_ Sherlock waved his arms at the clinic. _“I figured if I disguised myself, maybe I had a chance to get to you. I used some of the entrails from the pig…”_

John cut Sherlock off mid sentence, smashing his lips into Sherlock’s, and dragging Sherlock, and that weird bag, into a nearby exam room. Kicking out a cowering nurse John locked the door and leaned against it.

_“Sherlock, what is all this? I feel like I’ve stepped into a movie. How bad is it out there? How did you get here? What the bloody hell… OH GOD! Mrs. Hudson!”_

In two long strides, Sherlock was looming over John, pulling him into an embrace hushing him softly. He had only seen John like this once before, and that was the day he had faked his own death. His heart had broken that day, knowing he couldn’t comfort John. Well now he could, and comfort he did.

 _“Hush, husband. Mrs. Hudson is safe.”_ Kissing John’s forehead Sherlock explained what he knew. _“I don’t know exactly what this is. I do know it’s a virus. Spread by bodily fluids. Doesn’t seem to be airborne, but it is fast acting. I saw one reporter, get cornered, and within minutes she was shuffling around with the rest of the walking dead. I can’t tell if it gives them a taste for flesh, or just primal rage…  Well, as you can see, the disguise seemed to protect me. I brought you one!”_ Sherlock nodded to the bag on the floor.

Letting go of John, Sherlock knelt down, opened the bag and grinned. Inside was an array of weapons. Blow torches, guns and ammo of all kinds, chemicals, and of course, the means for a disguise for John.

“ _Sherlock, where did you get all these guns?”_ John look at his husband in disbelief. There was his trusted browning, 3 AK47’s, 4 sawed off Shotguns, a Glock 17, a Marlin 1984 with a sniper sight on it, one AR 15 with limited ammo, and two good old  Reminintons. _“No wonder this thing weighed a ton.”_

Sherlock shrugged. _“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve been stockpiling guns for ages? I always thought I’d need it because of some war my brother started…”_

 _“Greg! Mycroft!”_ John paused suddenly remembering through the fog of horror, dreading his next question. _“What about Xander? What about our son! He was with them! Any word?”_ John asked hopefully. His heart sank a little when Sherlock shook his head no. _“We’ll find them. Mycroft is smart… He’ll keep our son safe, right?_ ” He said more to reassure himself than Sherlock.

 _“No word, from any of them. Yes, they picked Xander up from his half day at school, I got the text saying he was with them.”_ Sherlock hugged his husband, trying to stay strong. But in all honestly, the thought of his son out there in the unknown was horrifying, even to him.

Sherlock looked around the room, his eyes stopping on the small exame bed in the middle of the room. Pulling John with him, he walked over and sat down, starting to take his clothes off.

_“Sherlock, this isn’t the time or place for sex. There's a bloody zombie apocalypse out there!”_

_“So this is exactly the time, as for the place, I couldn’t care less. John, we may not survive the attempt to get home. Worse yet, just one of us might survive. If this is to be our last few moments alone, together… Then I want you. I want to take you right now. Please, husband…”_

John said nothing, but got up and started rummaging through the drawers. Upon finding what he was looking for he tossed the small bottle to Sherlock and started undoing his belt.

 _“Lube?”_ Sherlock grinned.

_“Yeah, I didn’t feel like digging through the guns to see if you brought any.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**~*45 Minutes later*~**

 

_“I still don’t understand why you brought all the guns here, if we’re going back to the flat dressed like… this.”_ John motioned to his now blood covered clothes.  
  
 _“Because, John. We have to stop by Bart’s first. We have to find out what this is. My small lab at home isn’t enough. I need you with me on this. John…”_ Sherlock looked scared and unsure. _“I need you to keep us safe. Once I’m working, I won’t be aware of what is going on around me. We...  might not make it home.”_

_“I’ll keep you safe, especially with this arsenal you've provided for me.”_  John wrapped his arms around his husband one more time before pulling away. Grabbing a small portable first aid kit, he emptied it out. Muttering, “ _Not like band aids would do us any good… gauze.. no… tweezers… no…”_

Looking around, John threw together some basic medicine, a few syringes, some face masks, gloves, a handful of empty piss pots, and scalpel with a cover. Fighting with the zipper, John closed it, slung it around his neck and gave Sherlock a passionate kiss.

_“Once out there, we won’t be able to talk. They sometimes grunt. So if you need to get my attention, grunt. I assume you remember hand signals from the Army?”_ John nodded. _“We’ll discreetly use those to communicate. If something happens to either…”_

_“I’ll see you at Bart's? Yeah? I’ll be wanting this back.”_  John shoved his beloved Browning into Sherlock’s hands. Sherlock stuffed the gun into his inside coat pocket and nodded grimly. Both men checked their phones, making sure they were on silent, took a breath and headed for the door.

Twisting the strap to the bag around his ankle again, Sherlock straightened and flashed John a smile. Despite the danger, Sherlock was enjoying this a little. It was just the two of them, against the world. Sherlock gave the bag a tug and nodded. It was a little lighter this time. John had taken some of the guns and ammo and put them in his work bag. That way if something happened, and they got separated, they both had means to protect themselves.

Stepping out into the early afternoon sun, John shuffled off in the direction of Bart's. They had agreed that while staying close, and within sight of each other, they shouldn’t be too close. John was on the lookout for an abandoned vehicle. Anything would do. At the this shuffling pace, they would be lucky to reach Barts before sundown. And neither of them wanted to find out what happened to these creatures at night.

Keeping Sherlock in his peripheral vision, John sauntered off. He stiffened a little as he passed his first zombie. The thing paid him no mind. At a closer inspection John was impressed with how closely Sherlock was able to replicate the look. They were pale, gaunt eyes, flesh and blood oozing out of their mouths. Some still had bleeding bite marks.  It took everything John had to not break into a run. Instead he put his head down low, cocked it to the side a bit, and shuffled forward.

Four blocks when by, and not a single car. Neither moving, or abandoned. A motion from Sherlock’s direction caught his eye and John fought to keep from snapping his head to see what was going on. Slowly shuffling around John let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Sherlock had found a car. A Land Rover, no less! John kept up his slow but steady shuffle, and soon he and Sherlock were standing next to the car.

The street was mostly deserted, if they were quick, they might be able to get inside it before company came. Sherlock nodded, and John reached for the door handle. John breathed a sigh of relief when the door swung open It wasn’t locked! Not only that! There was dinging! The keys were still in the ignition. John didn’t want to believe their luck.

Throwing their bags into the back of the car they scurried inside, in one fell swoop, they shut the doors and started the engine. The noise attracted attention, but before anyone arrived Sherlock was driving off.

_“Sherlock, why didn’t you just drive to the clinic?.... Oh, duh, we don't have a car. Nevermind.”_

Sherlock grinned as John answered his own question.

_“Getting out at St. Bart's will be the tricky part…  I’m hoping to find an empty bay at the ambulance building, then you could get out, and shut the door behind us. We may have a few… zombies.. to deal with inside, but I think we’d fare better than on the streets. John, in my coat pocket are two flashlights. Be a dear and get them?”_

John leaned over the center console and fished the flashlights out of Sherlock's coat.

_"New batteries?"_ John tested each light. Sherlock nodded grimly. Eyes fixed dead head. Up ahead was a intersection and it was crawling with zombies.

_"Should we go around?"_ John whispered.

_"No. No detours. We're almost there."_ Sherlock stepped on the gas and slipped the car into 4th gear. _“Hold onto something, John.”_

John gripped the door and screwed his eyes shut. He knew what was coming. As Sherlock accelerated he was pushed back into the seat. The car rocked back and forth and he both heard and felt a series of loud thuds as Sherlock plowed through the crowd of creatures. After a few moments of silence John peaked at Sherlock and found him grinning from ear to ear. Despite the situation John had to laugh, which caused Sherlock to burst into giggles.

_“I’ve always wanted to do that!”_

_“Run over zombies?”_

_“No, John. Run over stupid people.”_

_“Oh, yes. How silly of me.”_

_“John… The empty pisspots. I might need them.”_ Noting John’s confused look, _“No! Not like that. If I am to understand this… plague, I’ll need  samples.”_

 

John reached behind them and pulled the first-aid kit onto his lap. Fishing out the pisspots and the scalpel he placed them in Sherlock’s coat. Slipping the strap of the first-aid kit over his neck John climbed into the back seat and opened the big black bag.  He pulled out four clips for his Browning.

_“Left or right pocket?”_  He said, holding the clips up.

_“Left.”_ John slipped them into Sherlock’s coat and went back to the bag. _“If you can grab this bag, Sherlock, I’ll dual wield.”_ Sherlock nodded as he pulled onto West Smithfield. John picked out an AK47 and glock and one of the shotguns . Double checking that they were loaded he stuffed a few clips for each into his belt and coat pockets. Strapping the AK47 around his back he climbed back up front just as Bart's was coming into view.

John shuddered. There were at least 50 creatures between themselves and the hospital. Some were wearing hospital gowns, white Doctors coats, others were wearing street clothes. Seeing John shudder, Sherlock took his hand off the gearshift and squeezed John’s hand.

_“Sherlock, will… will we even be able to get in? Let alone make it to the lab?”_

_“Of course we will. I have complete faith in my soldier.”_ Sherlock flashed him a grim smile.The noise from the car was drawing unwanted attention. _“Though, we might have to shoot our way into the hospital.”_

Sherlock drove closer to the hospital, luck was on their side again. There was an empty ambulance bay. Looking over at John he nodded and John positioned himself with a hand on the door. Speeding up again, Sherlock slammed into a group of zombies. Pulling up to the bay, Sherlock slammed the car into reverse and backed into the station. Within seconds John was out pulling the door down.

Hearing a scuffle behind the car John spun around, pointing the glock and the flashlight in the direction of the noise. In the corner was a young man, covered in oozing wounds, blood and drool pooling out of his mouth. Without allowing himself time to think John fired the glock. One clean shot to the head, and the zombie dropped.

Motioning to Sherlock to stay in the car, John did a sweep of the building. Finding and dispatching two more zombies John headed back to his husband.  Pleased to find that Sherlock had actually listened to him John opened the back doors to the car.

_“Sherlock, I’d take the keys if I were you. I would rather like our getaway car to be here when we get back. How are we on fuel?”_

Pocketing the keys Sherlock walked around the the other door and leaned into the back seat. _“Fuel is fine.”_ Sherlock zipped the bag up and slung it over his shoulders.

_“Do you think the disguise will work again?”_ John asked hopefully as he replaced the three bullets in his glock.

_“Honestly, John, I’m not sure. Between the car and your gun, I’m afraid the noise will have drawn them to us. If we can manage to slip out of here unseen, we might be able to fool them. I just don’t have enough data!”_

_“Then go collect a sample. Maybe this poor sod wont have died for nothing.”_ John tossed Sherlock a pair of gloves from the first-aid kit. Sherlock caught the gloves, pulled them onto his hands and stooped over the corpse on the floor. He took a scraping from between the man’s teeth, a chunk of his tongue, some of the blood oozing out of one of the various wounds, and a bit of flesh.

_“May I have you pen, John?”_ John tossed him his pen, and he labeled each sample. Sherlock handed the pen back to John.

_“No, uh, you can keep it….”_ Looking out the door John only counted 10 zombies. _“Well… Shall we? Ten zombies, ten bullets. We’ll have to move fast.”_

With a nod, both men were out the door running like mad for the side door to Barts. One of the zombies started walking towards them. John knew that as soon as he fired the gun, there would be no going back. Aiming the Glock John fired and kept running. Three more zombies started towards them.

_“Jesus! Are they getting faster?”_

_“It would appear so, husband. Fascinating.”_

John fired three more times. 6 bullets left to this clip.  As they neared the side entrance. _“Four more… just four more.”_ John took a breath and fired three more times. One of the zombies fell in the exact spot Sherlock had fallen on all those years before. The sight gave him pause.

Sherlock yelling, _“JOHN!”_ followed by a loud bang brought him back to his senses.

_“Fuck! Sherlock.. I’m…”_

_“It’s fine.. I understand.”_ Sherlock was holding the door open for him, beckoning him to hurry. There were more zombies headed their way than John wanted to fight off single handedly, so he rushed after Sherlock, locking the door behind them. He didn’t have time to catch his breath. Directly ahead of them was a doctor. Well, he used to be a doctor. He was now holding an arm, and licking his fingers like he had just eaten fried chicken. John aimed, and fired, and he fell to the floor. Dropping his empty clip John shoved a new one in and motioned to Sherlock to follow him.

The trip through the hospital was uneventful. There were a few doctors and nurses hiding. This side of the hospital didn’t usually have patients, that must have lessened the chance of infection. John figured that the emergency room and the morgue would be the worst.

_“FUCK! Sherlock... “_

_“What?”_ The alarm in John’s voice scared Sherlock.

_“Molly.”_

Sherlock took of for the morgue.

_“Sherlock! You can’t. It’ll be worse down there!”_ John ran after him, the gun on his back bouncing, reminding him of his time in Afghanistan. Sherlock ignored him and kept running.

  
_“Fine, but remember that you have 12 rounds left! Clips are in your left pocket.”_

_“Yes, husband.”_

As John feared there were more and more zombies as they neared the morgue. John put the shotgun to good use. He was pleased that he had been trained to shoot right handed and left. He could aim the Glock with pinpoint accuracy with his right hand, and handle the recoil of the shotgun with ease with his left.

The boys barged into the morgue and their hearts sank. There, shuffling aimlessly through the morgue was a woman in a white, blood covered lab coat. Sherlock kicked the closest thing to him., with a loud clatter the metal bowl shot across the room. The woman turned around to face the noise, confirming that it was, in fact, Molly.

Their hearts sank. Molly was gone. John raised the shotgun but paused when Sherlock placed his hand on his arm.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Do not shoot. Please." Sherlock's voice was a hoarse whisper._

_"She's gone, luv."_

_"No... John..."_

John pressed the Glock into Sherlock's hand. Zombie Molly was starting to move towards them. Blood was dripping off her chin. Sherlock raided the gun, but couldn't bring himself to shoot. She shuffled closer, inch by inch, time seemed to stand still. Suddenly she stopped, she was so close that Sherlock could almost press the gun to her temple.

_“Sherlock!”_ John’s voice was urgent, _“I cannot lose you! Not now, not again, and not like this! Shoot her!”_ But Molly didn’t move any closer. Instead she moved, as if she was walking into an invisible wall.

_“What the….”_ John breathed. Sherlock blinked a few times and a small smile crept over his face.

_“Oh, you clever girl, Molly!”_

It was then that John noticed the scene around him. She, presumably, had killed at least six zombies before being wounded herself. But the clever girl had tied herself to a pole, that was the cause for her lack of movement.

_“Clever, clever girl. She knew what was coming, and didn’t want to hurt anyone. John, we could observe her, watch for changes. I know we don’t know when this happened, but this will help!”_ Sherlock spun around on his heels, looking around at the small lab that was set up in the morgue. _“This will do. Alright, Captain., how safe are we here?”_

John assessed the room, _“No windows… good.”_ Walking over to the swinging double doors he frowned. _“But I’m afraid that even locked, these doors won’t hold for very long. We’ll have to barricade it. But, before we do that I’d like to clear out these bodies… The thought of being locked in here with them…”_ John let his voice trail off as he shuddered.

Striding over to John, Sherlock held him at arms length. _“John, I don’t want you to touch them. We don’t know exactly how it spreads.”_ His voice grew quiet and his eyes were full of emotion, _“I couldn’t handle it if I lost you. Xander would be destroyed, we need you.”_

_“Well, we’re in a bloody hospital. I’m sure I can find a hazmat suit around here. If I wear that, would that make you happy?_ ” Sherlock nodded his approval.

15 minutes later John was suited up, and dragging the bodies out into the hall. He stacked them up haphazardly in a pile and looked at the trail of blood on the floor.

_“Sherlock, should I clean that up?”_  Motioning to the floor.

_“Why? Not like it matters…”_

_“But is it safe?”_

_“Safe? No. I would avoid touching it if I were you. Would you like help barricading the room shut?”_

_“No, I can manage. But, are we keeping her in here?”_ John eyed the Zombie wearing Molly’s clothes.

_“Yes, She’s quite safe, for now. I don’t think that they’ll get unnatural strength.”_

_“Think… Fine, then I’m calling her Zolly.”_ John muttered. Keeping a wide berth from Zolly he started pulling out spare tables and filing cabinets to barricade the door with.

_“Really, Zolly, John?”_ Sherlock looked over at him, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

_“Yeah, and if you insist on having a pet, make sure she stays on her leash. I don’t feel like getting bitten._ ”

_“Yes, Captain.”_ Sherlock muttered, pulling the samples out of his pocket he placed them on the table. Soon Sherlock was hunched over equipment, muttering to himself. John went back to securing the room. Once there was a fair amount of debris between them and the door, John studied Zolly.

She was still pulling at the end of her tether, and thankfully she was still hitting that invisible wall. He wondered how long the rope would hold for, or if she would get smart enough to cut it, or untie herself.

_“Mind if I flick on the news, Sherlock? I don’t want to distract you, but I want to know what’s going on out there.”_

_“It won't distract me. In fact, knowing what’s going on out there would be wise. Oh, John. we should turn our phones off. I don’t know when we’ll be able to charge them. We can take turns checking our phones.”_ Sherlock powered his phone off and placed it on the table next to him before pulling on some elbow high gloves.

John nodded, turned his phone off and flicked the small telly on. It wasn’t hard to find news of the disaster outside. John half watched, half listened while he pulled some guns out, and placed them on the table in front of him. If zombies did break through that door, he would be ready for them. He would defend Sherlock until the last bullet.

**_“Update: Ebola vaccine mutated.”_** A scared reporter was huddled in a dark room, face lit up by a flashlight.

  ** _This just in:_** _The first cases of this outbreak have been linked to the new vaccine, E3GM created as a cure for Ebola. Reports are trickling in about…_ There was a noise and the reporter jumped and let out a squeal and everything went dark.

_“Poor sod…”_ John muttered. He flipped the channel. 

_**“Hotlines set up to find missing loved ones.”** _

_**“Alive and well? Let us know.”** _

John flipped channels again. The next station had aerial coverage. Both John and Sherlock gasped. It looked like someone had hit pause on all of London. There were a handful of cars driving around, and groups of slow moving people shuffling around.

_“It looks like they’re forming groups… That can’t be good, can it?”_

_“Uh, no.”_ Sherlock looked worried. He turned his attention back to the samples. John looked out the small windows on the door.

_“It still looks like the hall is clear.”_

_“Good, then rest, John. While you can.”_

John nodded, and pulled up a chair just out of reach of Zolly and studied her. Her brown eyes were now grey, all of the colour had drained from her face, leaving her an ashen colour.

_“You know, it’s interesting.”_

_“Hmm?” Sherlock didn’t look up, only half paying attention to John._

_“The movies… they made zombies seem… so… undead.”_

_“Your point, John?”_

_“I swear it, Sherlock, she’s still in there.”_

_“Oh?”_ Sherlock looked up, his interested peaked. Getting up from the table he walked over to Zolly, getting as close as he dared and studied her. Her once pale skin was now almost grey and translucent enough for all of her veins to show. All the life seemed to have been drained out of her, except her eyes. Her grey eyes were still flashing with life… And was that… recognition?

“ _Do you know who I am, Molly?”_ Sherlock spoke softly, his tone hopeful.

Molly blinked, one long blink, one short, two long.

_“Morse for… yes?”_ John looked at Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded. _“Yes.. Molly, can you talk?”_

A series of low grunts followed Sherlock’s question, which only caused Zolly to get frustrated, and pull on her rope.

_“Apparently not…”_ Sherlock went back to the table. _“John, I need you to ask her a series of questions. We need to figure out what she can and cannot understand.”_

_“Right.”_ John nodded and turned his attention back to Zolly. _“Zol.. Er… Molly, do you know what today is?”_ Molly just stared blankly at John. _“Do you know what happened, what happened to you?”_ Molly just looked around at where the bodies used to be, then at the door.

Sighing John took out his flashlight and shined them in her eyes. Her pupils did not dilate. _“She’s in there… somewhere.. Clearly there is brain damage though.”_

 

_“Molly, how many fingers am I holding up?”_ John held up four fingers, and tried to get her attention. Molly eventually looked at John’s hand and grunted four times.

_“So,  best guess is that she can hear us, maybe even understand some, if not all of what we say. But she just can’t vocalize anything.”_ John looked at Sherlock and sat back down in the chair.

_“One more thing, then, John. I need to know how she’ll react. Give her one of those.”_ Sherlock nodded to a cage of lap mice.

Cocking his head sideways John grimaced. _“You’ve got to be kidding me….”_ John found an empty box and put all but two of the mice in the box. Taking the top of the cage off, he tied a string to one of the bars. Holding onto one end of the string he kicked the cage towards Zolly.

Zolly just looked at it with a confused look for a few minutes. Reaching into the cage she, with difficulty, cornered the mice and picked one of them up. The mouse bit her, but she didn’t seem to notice. It managed to wiggle free, but feel back into the cage. Repeating the process she picked up the other mouse, held it up and looked at it.

_“What  do you think she’ll do to it… UGH! That is… disgusting.”_ John turned away as Zolly bit the head off the mouse.

_“Apparently eat it. John, could you pull the cage away now? I’m sure if I can find a cure for this, she would appreciate it if we limited her consumption of living things.”_

John tugged on the sting and pulled the cage out of her reach.

_“Don’t touch that mouse, John. It bit Molly, I would imagine that it is infected now.”_

_“Wait! So you’re saying you could make a cure?”_ John snapped his head over to look at Sherlock.

_“Well… if it is a mutated vaccine, like they’re saying, then it is possible. I just have to isolate the cause of the mutation.”_

_“I’d like to see the reports from the trial runs for this medicine. This is a rather obvious side effect.”_ John muttered dryly.  _"I wonder who was in charge of that one."_

_“Probably the bloody Americans…”_

Minutes ticked by, then hours. All stayed relatively quiet in the morgue except for the occasional thumping coming from the hall. So far it seemed that the undead had no interest in break the doors down. John and Sherlock had taken turns checking their phones on the hour. Three hours in, on John’s second time checking his phone he got an alert for a missed message. His heart skipped a beat as he clicked play. It was from Greg!

_**“I swear to God! You and Sherlock had better be alive. It’s half three… Call us, John. Xander’s phone is off, but Mycroft and I are taking turns checking ours, we’ll check again in a half hour.”** _

John pounded the air above him in triumph. Xander was safe. He played the the message again on speakerphone for Sherlock.

_“They’re safe then.”_ Sherlock visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping  a little.

_“Mmm._ ” John mumbled as he pressed his phone to his ear.

_**“Greg?”** _

**_“JOHN!”_ ** John had to pull the phone away from his ear Greg shouted so loud. “ ** _You’re alive then! Sherlock?”_**

_**“Yes, Sherlock too.”** _

_**“Where are you guys?”** _

_**“Bart’s morgue. Sherlock is examining a few samples at the lab here. Where are you?”** _

_**“Driving. We’ve been driving off and on since picking Xander up.  Haven’t been able to stay in one place for long.”** _

_**“Are you close to Bart’s? You could come here, we’ve been relatively safe, actually.”** _

_**“Yes, but I’m out of ammo, so how will we get in?”** _

_**“Back entrance, where they pick up the bodies, pull in, call me, and I’ll come get you. I’ll keep my mobile on.”** _

_**“Ok, we’ll call you when we get there, eta… 15 minutes.”** _

_**“Greg?”** _

_**“Yeah, John?”** _

_**“Keep my son safe.”** _

_**“We will.”** _

John hung up and rushed over to Sherlock. Dragging him into a bear hug, finally letting his emotions show.

_"He's safe.. Sh.. Sherlock he's safe!"_

_"I_ _know, John... We'll all be together soon."_ Pulling his gloves off Sherlock held John's face against his chest, pretending not to hear John's soft sobs.


	4. Chapter 4

_"I've got to get things ready. Greg is out of ammo, so I have to meet him at the door."_

_"Be safe, and... Protect him, John."_

_"Food! We need food... Sherlock. Xander will be hungry. And.."_ Looking around at the mess Sherlock had made, _"Looks like we'll be here all night."_

_"One thing at a time, John."_

_"Right."_ John nodded and went to the table full of guns. _“Sherlock, could I bother you for my browning back? I’m going to need to bring Greg and Mycroft guns, and it would be easier to carry pistols over multiple shotguns.”_

_“Of course. Just…”_

_“Stay safe, I know.”_ John flashed Sherlock a smile as he stuffed a sawed off shotgun into the back of his pants.

Grabbing his work bag he stuffed two more of the sawed off shotguns, a armful of ammo, an AK47, and the Marlin into it. Handing the remaining shotgun to Sherlock with a pile of ammo he silently started moving the debris blocking the door.

_“Sherlock, the locks on this door won’t hold against much. I need you to guard the door while we’re gone. If you can help it, please make sure its us before you decide to shoot!”_ Giving him a wink he pulled the last table away from the door.

_“I will do my best not to kill my family.”_ Sherlock shot John a pained look before smiling.

John’s phone rang, nearly startling them both out of their skin.

“ _ **Dad? We’re here… Uncle Myce is just about to pull up, the street is…. empty, which I think is more frightening.”**_

**_“What, you mean your Uncle Myce driving hasn't already scared you to death?”_ **  John quipped.

**_“He should have just let me drive, we would have been here by now. I kept telling him that he could go above the speed limit, that we were the only ones on the road…”_ **

**_“I’ll have no son of mine driving before getting his licence, Zombie Apocalypse or not! Nevermind, I’ve got to get off my phone, I’ll meet you guys outside, ok? Tell your uncles I have guns for them, and to be ready.”_ **

**_“Dad, I want a gun. Please? I’m 15… I’ve been through worse. “_ **

**_“Xander! No gun, that’s final…_** ”

“John, perhaps he should…”

**_“Fine, Ada wants you to have a gun. Put Mycroft or Greg on the phone.”_ **

**_“John?”_** It was Greg.

  
**_“Sherlock is insisting that Xander have a gun. I’m going to let him use my browning, less recoil, and easy to load. Could you or Mycroft go over gun safety with him? I don’t need him walking around with his finger on the trigge_** r.”

_**“Yeah, of course. We’re here, John. How long until you get here?”** _

_**“It isn’t far, and the hall seems quite, but I don’t trust the quite. If I’m not there in 15 minutes, call Sherlock.”** _

_**“Right, see you soon, John.”** _

_“Sherlock… I’ll see you soon. Ok?”_

Sherlock took four long strides over to John, pulled him into his arms and kissed him passionately before handing him his bag.

_“I’ll be here, waiting for you. Bring me our son.”_

_“I will.”_

John unlocked the door, slipped out, and took off in the direction of the morgue entrance. It really wasn’t far, just a few doors down. But this set of doors had no windows. John had no way of knowing what was on the other side. Just as he was about to push the doors open he heard Sherlock yell behind him.

_“John!” JOHN!”_

John dashed back to Sherlock as fast as he could, panic overtaking him. Sherlock met him halfway down the hall, with what looked like a flamethrower in his hands.

_“Take this. You might need it. I have more than enough chemicals in there to make something out of.”_ With that Sherlock ran back to the morgue.

Feeling a little better about his situation John slung the flamethrower over his back, gripped the nozzle in his left hand, an AK 47 in his right and opened the door. The sight that greeted him made him glad he had the AK 47. There were 8 zombies ahead of him in the narrow hallway. There was an open door leading off to another wing, that must be where they were coming from.

John opened fired with the AK47, surprised at the amount of recoil. Xander would not be using this gun. He managed to tick off 6 if them with ease before his clip was empty. Dropping the gun and letting it swing around his neck by it’s strap he turned the flamethrower on. The flames shot out about four feet in front of him, and he had to laugh. He should not be enjoying this, yet he was. The fire seemed just as effective as a bullet to the head, and soon the hall was empty again. Turning the flamethrower off he quickly shut the open door, and headed back towards the exit.

The next hall only had one zombie in it, and one shot from his browning took care of that. John decided to take a moment to reload the AK 47 and catch his breath. Looking at his watch he grimaced. It had been a full 7 minutes. He shouldn’t have lingered so long with Sherlock.

Rushing forward he turned a corner and stopped short. He could see the exit, but he could also see another 4 zombies. Favoring his browning he picked them off one by one, and waited to see if any more would appear. After a full minute, when none appeared, he took off for the exit. He could see the sleek outline of Mycroft's car.

Slamming through the doors he held them open, beckoning for the people in the car to hurry. Three car doors opened as the men got out of the car. Greg looked around before running towards John, Xander followed and Mycroft grudgingly walked briskly over.

John pulled Xander into a one handed bear hug before shoving everyone inside. There were a few zombies walking around that hadn’t seemed to notice them yet, and he wanted to keep it that way. Once inside John held Xander at arms length and examined him.

_“Dad! I’m fine!”_ Xander protested, trying to shrug John’s arms off him.  _"But you.. you look like sh... crap. What happened?"_

_"Your dad and I disguised ourselves... I'll explain later._

_“You’re fine when I say you are.”_ John said, winking at his son, looking him up and down. _“Yeah, you’ll do.”_ Looking at Greg and Mycroft, _“Thank you…”_

_“Of course, John. That’s what family is for.”_ Greg said, shooting Mycroft a look.

_“Right.. So, we have two options. One will make Sherlock happy… the other.. not so much.”_ John shifted his weight on his feet, looking a bit guilty. _“Sherlock is expecting us to head right back to the morgue, but neither of us have eaten in hours, and it looks like we’ll be stuck here a lot longer than that. I say, while we’re already out and about, we make a dash for the cafeteria and stock up on food.”_

_“Food?”_ Xander perked up. _“Oh-oh! Will there be zombies along the way?”_

_“Well… yes, I would imagine so….”_

_“Then what are we waiting for!?”_ Xander cut him off, getting rather excited. _“Dad, if we go back, Ada will just start spitting out facts at you. Telling you how it’s likely that one of us will get injured, or how we could survive a few days without food.”_

Holding up his hands in surrender, _“Alright, alright… but keep that up, and I won't need him to convince me, Xander.”_

Greg let out a chuckle as Mycroft let out an exasperated sigh, earning him a jab in the ribs from his other half. Eyeing the bag slung over John’s shoulders Greg spoke up.

_“Well, it seems we have enough firepower… I’d just as well go get food now, while we’re already out in the open. If at all possible, I’d like to spare you all from being locked in a room with a hungry Mycroft.”_ He flashed his husband a grin, but had to dart out of the way as Mycroft went to slap him on the ass.

John placed the bag on the floor, doubled checked that everything was fully loaded then handed out the guns. Seeing Mycroft eyeing the Marlin he handed it over.

_“It’s a six shooter, here…”_ John handed Mycroft a box of ammo. Mycroft nodded and tested the weight of the gun, before lifting it up to his shoulder, looking down the sight. Seeming satisfied he lowered the gun.

_“This will do, thank you, John.”_

John handed Greg the Glock and a shotgun and a box of ammo for each. _“When we get back to Sherlock, we’ll check for ammo for your gun, ok?”_ Greg nodded.

Next he turned to Xander, who looked at him with eager anticipation. Holding his browning out, but not letting his son take it just yet, _“If… IF I see your finger on the trigger for any reason other than you squeezing it… You’d better hope a zombie gets ahold of you before I do.”_  Xander started to roll his eyes but stopped mid roll when John pointed a finger at him. _“I’m serious, Xander.”_

_“I know dad… Uncle Greg went over gun safety with me in the car..”_

_“Also, I only brought so much ammo, so we can’t just shoot willy-nilly.”_ John finally handed over his Browning, to a nearly squealing 15 year old son. When John didn’t offer him any other guns Xander stopped squealing.

_“I don’t suppose I can get one of those shotguns, Dad?”_

_“Ummmm… No.”_ Patting Xander on the back he handed him a small amount of ammo, showing him how to load it. Once everyone was ready John took off down the hall but stopped dead in his tracks a few paces away. Turning around he looked at Xander with a mischievous glint in his eyes. _“Buuut……”_ Slipping the flamethrower off from around his neck he handed it to Xander. After he was sure that Xander could operate the thing without killing himself he picked up the bag, held a shotgun in each hand and took off down the hall again.

_“Dad!”_ Xander ran to catch up to John. _“Dad! Can I lead? I know the way!”_

_“Ummm again, no. Stay between your uncles. That’s an order.”_

_“Uuhgg..”_ Xander groaned, but didn’t argue.

Greg quickly fell into step behind John, then Xander with Mycroft bringing up the rear.

_“Uncle Myce likes being in the rear, doesn’t he?”_ Xander quipped.

John and Greg snorted with laughter, while Mycroft slapped Xander upside the back of his head. _“John, I would appreciate it if you would keep your son under control.”_

_“Worth…”_ Xander muttered, while turning to walk a few steps backwards to grin at his uncle.

_“What can I say, Mycroft? He’s got my sass. It can’t be controlled.”_

_“Can’t or wont?”_

_“Alright guys.”_ Greg decided to intervene. _“We should really focus. John, how far to the cafeteria?”_

_“It’s almost directly above us. On the ground floor. Shit! I should send Sherlock a message._ ” John quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed a quick message.

**_“Sherlock, we’re going to get food, Keep your phone on until we get back. -JW”_ **

_“Right…  My guess is that the ground floor will be infested with these… zombies… as it will be easier for them to access the building. That being said, should we take the stairs, or the lift.”_

_“It would be wiser to take the lift, John. If my memory serves me correctly, the lift takes us directly to the cafeteria._ ”

_“Uncle Myc is right, Dad. And the lfit is just down this hall and around the corner.”_ Xander pointed to the door that John had shut earlier.

_“Xander…”_ John took in a deep breath and looked at his son, _“Stay close, and be alert.”_

_“Yes, Dad, I will.”_ Xander nodded, all joking and glee aside.   

Heading off in the direction of the closed door John halted.

_“I closed this earlier, I’m not sure what’s on the other side of this door…. Ready?”_

Greg and Mycroft nodded and Xander shrank back behind them, starting to feel scared.

_“Xander, luv, now isn’t the time? We all have to keep a clear head until we get back to the morgue. Pretend you’re just playing one of your games… Left for island… island dead… what is it?”_

_“Left 4 dead and Dead Island are two different games, dad!”_  

_“Ugh, fine. Pretend you’re playing one of them? OK?”_ Xander nodded and stood up a little bit taller. How had his dad done this? Gone into war, willingly? He had never bothered to imagine the feeling, but now, now he had so much more respect for John.

_“Good lad. Be ready, if we come across a group, I’m going to have you fry them. Aim for their heads, ok?”_

_“Uh-huh.”_

Pushing the door open quickly John ran into the adjoining hall. Three zombies were clawing at the opposite door.

_“I got them, Greg, Mycroft, you two check any open doors, Xander, you watch behind us. Ready? GO!”_

John raced down the hall, once he was close enough to shoot with 100% accuracy he fired, three shots, alternating between the two shotguns. Left 7 shots left, right, 8….

_“All clear behind us?”_ John shouted over his shoulder, not looking back.

_“All clear, John!”_ Greg called out.

_“Let’s move out!”_ John swung the next door open, the lift was down here, around the corner. _“Same thing, I’ve got our Twelve, Greg, Myc, Three and Nine! Xander, you watch our Six!”_

_“Six, Dad?”_

_“Flank.. behind us.”_

_“Oh, right, sorry.”_

John raced down the hall again, only slowing down when he reached the corner. Pressing himself against the wall, peering around the corner. _“DAMN!” Xander… you’re up.  This hall is wide enough that we can all walk abreast…  We’ll go in shooting, when we get close enough, Xander, use the flamethrower. Save the gun for later. Do not step in front of us.Understand?”_

Everyone nodded and John stepped out into the hall. _“What I would give for a grenade right now.”_

Laughing dryly Mycroft followed suit, and crouched down. Aiming the sniper he quickly picked off 6 from the group. _“Go ahead of me while I reload.”_

Slowly advancing John waited again before using up the rest of his bullets, he was vaguely aware that Greg was also dual wielding. Hearing Greg curse he knew that Greg needed to reload as well.

_“Xander! You’re up.”_

Xander nodded, swallowed a lump in his throat and stepped forward, flicking the flamethrower on he aimed it as best as he could. Soon his dad was beside him again, aiming the shotguns.

_“You’re doing good, Xander, keep it up. We’re almost through this group.”_

Nodding Xander notice that his uncles were on either side of them, and that Mycroft had a funny grin on his face. Well, it wasn’t that the grin was funny. It was the fact that Uncle Myc was grinning.

Between the four of them they made short work of the group. John check and closed any open doors before heading to the lift. Pressing the button he motioned to step back, but when the lift doors opened he was pleased to see that it was empty. The four men climbed in, pressed the close button and slumped to the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

_“Jesus Christ Dad!”_

_“Xander! Language!”_

_“How the hel.. heck did you do that, WILLINGLY?”_ Xander rolled his eyes at the rebuke.

_“Well.. I was a doctor, Xander. Now, everyone, reload.”_ After everyone had reloaded and caught their breath John hit the star button and they all tensed, nervous on what greeted them on the other side. Xander pushed his way to the front, holding the flamethrower in front of him.

_“I got this, Dad…. And yes, I know, ‘Be Careful’ Don’t worry… I will.”_

The lift doors slowly opened to a crowd of zombie, so many that they didn’t want to count them. John thought about pressing the “Close Doors” button, but Xander had positioned himself between the doors. He was about to pull his son back in when Xander started sweeping a column of fire at the group.

_“Look, Dad! I got one!”_

_“Great, Kid. Don’t get cocky”_

_“I’ll try!”_ Xander laughed out loud at his dad’s reference to Star Wars. _“But look, they’re falling back.”_ Greg, John and Mycroft had already noticed, and they had their guns ready.

_“Xander, fall back. Save whatever is left.”_ John gently touched Xander’s shoulder, bringing him back to the moment. Xander nodded and turned the flamethrower off.

_“Wow,”_ he breathed, _“That… was fun.”_

 

The three men stepped out of the elevator, quickly followed by Xander. The noise from the guns was echoing through the large lobby and their ears were ringing, but they carried on. While they were all reloading John took the opportunity to shout orders.

_“Once this room is cleared, Everyone grab a door, shut it, and meet by the cafeteria. Understood?”_ Three heads nodded in agreement.

John moved forward with every shot from the shotgun, still alternating guns. One shot from his left, one from his right, steadily moving closer to the shrinking group. The zombies had been confused by the sudden fire and noise, but now they were shuffling towards the four men. John was only about 10 feet away, and they were picking up speed. John cursed, he needed to reload. He took a few steps back, dropped to his knees and started to reload. He reloaded as quickly as he could, but one zombie was faster than the rest. _“GREG! MYCROFT! A little help here?”_

But before he finished his cry for help, a single bullet sunk into the Zombies head. John chanced a look behind him, both Greg and Mycroft were reloading… And then he saw Xander standing still, Browning outstretched.

_“Good lad…”_ he muttered. Deciding to back up, he rejoined his group. Xander joined in, firing all 13 rounds before trying to reload. By the time his trembling fingers had finished reloading his Dad and uncles had finished picking off the last of the group. Greg and Mycroft went to shut any open doors. And, for good measure, lock the main doors to the entrance.

John began to move towards the cafeteria, when he saw Xander kneeling, still fighting to reload the gun. John rushed over, and knelt on the floor next to his son.

_“Hey, you did great.”_

_“I.. I can’t get this.”_

_“Here… Let me help.”_ John gently took the gun from Xander, reloaded it, and handed it back.

_“I don’t get it, you showed me how to reload earlier, and I was doing it..”_

_“Xander,”_ John sighed, _“It’s a lot different in the heat of things. You did great, you really, really did. Now, come on, we’re almost done.”_

_“Thanks, Dad.”_ Xander looked up and offered his dad a small smile. John offered his hand to Xander, who took it and got up. Together father and son walked over to the cafeteria. John leaned over and smiled.

_“No one.. or.. thing, back there. Let’s just wait for your uncles.”_

_“Dad,”_ Xander sat on the counter, and placed the gun on the surface next to him. “ _Is there hope for us? I mean..  look at this.”_ He waved his hand at the bodies covering the floor.

John scratched his head and furrowed his brow. _“I don’t know, Xander. Don’t get me wrong… I have complete faith in your father. He’s a brilliant man. But, I don’t know if he can create a cure for this… this mutated vaccine. It took a team of scientists to create it. I fear we might be here awhile. Hopefully with Mycroft’s help….”_

Xander nodded. _“So, uh, Dad, what’s with the blood and guts all over you? You trying out a new fashion or something?”_

_“No! God, no! I forgot I was like this. It was a disguise that your father came up with. Worked quite well, actually.”_

_“Oooh, yeah, sounds like him.”_ Just then Greg and Mycroft came over.

_“All clear, John. Shall we? I’m sure my brother is beside himself by now.”_

_“Yeah.”_ John nodded then hopped the counter, Xander swung his legs over and followed his dad.

_“Come on, Pet!”_ Greg jumped over and looked at Mycroft with an amused smile.

_“I’m not jumping over a counter like my little brother thank you very much. I’ll stay here and make sure nothing happens.”_

_“Suit yourself!”_ Greg took off in the direction of the other two. Catching Up with them he sighed. _"Mycroft refused to jump the counter, he’s keeping watch. Let’s be quick. How much food do you think we’ll need? Enough for a day, a few days?”_ Greg looked around, searching for bags.

_“At least a day. Wouldn’t hurt to gather more. We’ll at least be spending the night.”_

_“The night?”_ Xander gasped in horror.

_“Afraid so, luv.”_ John sighed.

_“Dad! There is NO way I’m sleeping on the floor!”_

_“Well, Xander… what do you suggest?”_

_“Hospital beds, of course.”_

_“Xander, how are we going to fit four 5 hospital beds in the morgue?”_

_“Just the mattresses, obviously, dad! We can grab them on the way back, There’s a few rooms just before the lift!”_

_“We’ll see… I told your father that I’d bring you back to him, I wont lose you over a bed, ok?”_

_“John, I found bags.”_ Greg came over, holding up two large canvas bags.

_“Ah, perfect. Xander, you and your uncle start putting together some food. There is a small fridge in the morgue, so grab whatever you want. JUST, not all junk.”_

Xander rolled his eyes and put the giant chunk of chocolate back down as John walked off to the back. Upon finding the walk in cooler he cautiously pulled the door open. Opening the door he peeked in. There wasn’t much in here that they could use, but he grabbed a giant tub of ice cream.

_“Hello? Is someone there?”_

The voice nearly startled John out of his skin. Bending to pick up the ice cream he dropped, he looked around between the shelves.

_“Hello?”_

_“John!?”_

_“Mike? What the bloody hell are you doing in here?”_ John looked flabbergasted at a half frozen Mike Stamford.

_“Hiding, I managed to close myself in here just in time. How did you get here, was that you making all that noise?”_

_“Yeah, Greg, Mycroft, Xander and I fought our way in here. Sherlock is down in the morgue, using the lab there.”_

_“Oh, is Molly helping?”_

_“Uh… not quite…”_ John looked down at his feet, avoiding Mikes gaze.

_“Oh… Damn.”_

_“Yeah, come on, lets get you out of here and warmed up. We’re getting food.”_ John helped Mike up, and lead him out of the cooler. Upon finding his son and Greg he noticed that they had filled the two bags are were both munching on cake.

_“Oh! Hi, Mike!”_ Xander mumbled around the piece of cake.

_“Hello.”_

_“Everyone ready? I think we’ve got safe passage back, but be alert, Mike, here, take one of my shotguns.”_

_“Thanks, mate.” Mike took the offered gun and looked it over, it was obvious that he had never held a gun before._

_“Just point and shoot, Mike, but watch out for the recoil. It can be a bitch.”_

John leaped over the counter, and patted Mycroft on the back. _“Xander thinks we should grab some mattresses on the way back. With his help,” nodding to Mike, “Think we could swing it? I won’t lie, a few blankets and pillows would be nice.”_

_“I suppose so..”_ Mycroft wrinkled his nose, but didn't seem unpleased with the idea. _“There are rooms downstairs, yes?”_

_“Yeah, a few.”_

_“Good, we’ll use those.”_ With that, Mycroft took off for the lift.  


As the five men piled into the lift they all breathed a sigh of relief. Poor Mike was shivering from head to toe. John broke the silence.

_“Xander, you are going to go with your uncles to the morgue, and stay there with your father.”_ Raising an eyebrow as Xander started to protest he went on. _“This is not a suggestion. I’m going to need my Browning back, your uncles can keep you protected. But I can’t be carrying mattresses and two shotguns.”_

Xander reluctantly handed the Browning back, and started to protest. _“But.. dad, it was my idea.”_

_ “Xander, no arguing. Greg, Mycroft, take him kicking and screaming if you must.” _

_“I doubt it will come to that, John.”_ Mycroft looked down his nose at Xander.

John pulled Xander in for a bear hug as the elevator started to slow. _“You’ve done great today, kid. I’m so proud of you._ ”

_“Thanks, Dad.”_ Xander returned the hug and smiled.

_ “Now go, be safe, and calm your father down. I’m sure he’s lost it by now.”_

_“Now Mike,”_ John said as they took off for the few rooms that were down in the basement. _"I haven’t cleared down here... Be careful! I’m almost out of ammo. You have 10 rounds, use them wisely.”_   John grabbed a hospital gurney and pulled it behind him. Opening the first room he was pleased to see it was empty. With Mike’s help they made short work of collecting the two mattresses, blankets and pillows. The next two rooms were the same.  John looked around to tell Mike that they could go back.

_“Mike, I think we’re….. Mike? FUCK, NO!”_ Mike had just opened a door on the far side of the hall, and Mike’s gun was on the gurney. Which was four rooms down, between himself and John.

_“Shit..”_ John cursed under his breath as a grey arm reached out and grabbed Mike's face. Pulling out his browning he raced forward, kicked the door open and shot the two zombies that were in the room. Horrified at what he was afraid he would find, he looked at his friend and shook his head sadly.

_“No… no, no.. Mike..”_ John looked down at the scratch on Mike’s cheek.  
  


 

~More to come~


	6. Chapter 6

_“John… we both know what’s going to happen. But, hey… don’t feel bad. I would have frozen to death in that freezer anyway. Just… Do me a favor.”_

_ “Anything, Mike.” _

_ “Shoot me now.. I don’t want to know what it’s like to change.” _

_“But, Sherlock is working on a cure.”_

_“John, I mean it. I don’t want to turn into that.”_ Mike looked at the body laying on the floor next to him. _“Cure or no cure, I don’t want that to happen to me.”_

_ “Fine, but I'm not going to shoot you until I start to see the change. I won’t shoot you for nothing.” _

They fell into silence, and John checked his watch. Sherlock had said it only took a matter of minutes, he intended to figure out exactly how many. Three minutes later Mike’s skin started to pale, and his eyes lost all color. Taking a few steps back he aimed his Browning.

_“Goodbye, Mike…”_ John turned his head and squeezed the trigger. Turning to the gurney without looking back he pushed it down towards the morgue. Upon arriving Greg looked at John in a wordless question. John just shook his head.

Two arms spun him around and held him in a death grip. _“John Watson-Holmes, don’t you EVER do that to me again.”_

_“What? I came back, and it didn't take me two years.”_  John gave Sherlock a weak smile.

_“Do you know how I felt when I saw your text, John? When I heard the gunshots?”_ Sherlock grabbed Xander and pulled his family in for a hug. After a few seconds he looked up at Greg and Mycroft and opened an arm for them. Mycroft rolled his eyes before wrapping his arms around Sherlock and Xander, while Greg squeezed in between Xander and John. After a minute Mycroft cleared his throat and pulled out of the hug.

_“Has Sherlock introduced you guys to Zolly yet?”_ John said, pulling out of the hug, but leaving an arm each on his son and husband. Greg nodded and looked uneasily at Molly, while Mycroft wrinkled his nose. 

_“Dad, Ada, I’m starved. Can we eat?”_ Xander said impatiently.

John looked at Sherlock who nodded. _“I could actually go for something to eat, even if it isn’t John’s cooking.”_

_“Yeah, fine by me.”_ John looked uneasily at the doors. _“But first, I’d like to barricade the door again.”_

_“Mycroft and I will help.”_  
  
 _“Thanks, Greg.”_  
  
They made quick work out of barricading the door, and soon they were all sitting at the table, watching the news and eating. After a while Mycroft and Sherlock went over to the small lab set up, and started to work.

_“Xander, why don’t you help me set up the beds over there”_ John pointed to a corner of the room along the far wall. _“But first, I’d like to scrub the floor, at least where we’ll be sleeping. I don’t fancy sleeping on dried infected blood.”_

_“I’ll help dad.”_ Xander offered, standing up from the table. He scurried around the room, grabbing disinfectant and other chemicals along with buckets and rags.

_“Sherlock…”_ John walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. _“I’ve got a question. It could be pointless.”_ Nodding to what he and Xander were about to do, _“If we disinfect everything, will that even do us any good? Does it protect us?”_

_ “Hmmmm, I’m not sure. Xander! Get me a scraping. Very intriguing question, Doctor.” _

_ “Ada, dried or… fresh? _

_“Dried, but that’s a good idea, Hína! I’ll compare samples, see if anything changes when the blood dries.”_ A few minutes later Sherlock was shaking his head. _“Well, no difference between fresh or dried. Now… let’s test….”_ Sherlock started experimenting with the disinfectant. Sherlock’s eyes lit up in excitement. _“John! You brilliant man, you! Mycroft! This might be exactly what we need.”_

_ “It’s possible, brother. But let’s not get our hopes up yet, what are we going to do, run disinfectant through everyone’s veins?” _

_“That’s not what I said, Mycroft! I simply meant that..”_ John interrupted by kissing Sherlock on the cheek.

_“You’ll figure it out. So it’s a good idea to clean up the floor a bit?”_   Sherlock flashed him a smile as an answer. _“Alright, Xander, you heard your father. Let’s start cleaning. Greg, I’ll leave you in charge of the guns. That black bag over there might have ammo for your pistol.”_

Carefully avoiding a  circle around molly they got to work. It took John and Xander two hours to clean the floors. Greg, after reloading the guns helped. Soon the floor was spotless and John began setting up the beds.

_“Dad? What is she doing?”_ Xander motioned to Molly, who was moaning and tugging on the end of her leash, staring at the food.

_ “I don’t know.” _

_ “Do you suppose she’s hungry?” _

_“I guess it’s possible.”_ John thought back to how she had eaten the mouse. _“Why don’t you give her a chunk of the meat you guys grabbed.”_

Xander went to the fridge and took out his small pocket knife. Cutting a piece off he tossed it at Molly’s feet. Molly immediately stopped groaning, picked up the chunk of ham and devoured it. John laid down on one of the mattresses, suddenly feeling exhausted. Xander came over and curled up next to his dad, resting his head on John’s shoulder.

_“God! You haven’t done this since you were a boy, Xander!”_ John wrapped his arms around his son and sighed. Xander said nothing, but closed his eyes, and was soon fast asleep. Slipping out from his son's arms, he wrapped a blanket around him and got up and went over to his husband. Rubbing a hand on Sherlock’s back he sighed.

_“Guys, we all need sleep. Even you, Sherlock. But we can’t all sleep at once. It’s getting late, and we don’t know what these creatures do at night, or if there is even a change.  For safeties sake, we should take shifts. If only to keep an eye on Molly. I can take the first shit. Say, two hour shifts each?”_ Greg and Mycroft nodded, and they both went to find the closest loo. Once they were gone Sherlock looked up at John and crossed his arms.

_ “John, I’m not sleeping…” _

_ “Sherlock!” _

_“Let me finish, please?”_ John shut his mouth and nodded. _“I’m not sleeping without you. And you know that I need very little sleep. Let me stay up, continue working, I’ll do my shift, and then I promise, I’ll go to bed.”_

_“Sherlock…”_ John scratched his head.

“ _You know I don’t like to sleep without you. When I do…”_ Sherlock shuddered. _“I have dreams of the two years that we were apart, and I can’t handle that. So please, John.”_ Sherlock took John’s hands and pulled him down, so he was sitting across his lap. Putting a hand in John’s hair he pressed their foreheads together and sighed. John melted at his show of affection.

_ “Oh, Sherlock… You’ll be my undoing…” _

“ _You mean I’m not already?”_ Sherlock rubbed his nose on John’s. _“Xander, go back to sleep, you need your rest.”_ Sherlock looked over at his son and winked at him.

Yawning Xander curled back up under his blanket but only half closed his eyes. It wasn’t often that he saw his parent’s being affectionate with each other, he knew his parents loved each other. He hand never doubted that. But this, seeing John melt at Sherlock’s words, and having Sherlock be so open, Xander didn’t want to miss it.

_“Fine, Sherlock. You can stay up. I can’t say I liked the idea of being the only one awake while stuck in a room with her…”_ John nodded his head toward Molly. _“Its just… unnatural.”_ Brushing a curl out of Sherlock’s John kissed his forehead and checked his watch. _“They sure are taking a while! Should I go check on them?”_

_“Ummm… no.”_ Sherlock laughed, the sound echoing through the gloom. _“Judging by the looks Greg was giving my brother, it would be quite embarrassing for everyone if you walked in on them.”_

_“Ooooh, so we have a few minute alone do we?”_ John laughed, rubbing his nose against Sherlock’s nose.

_“Not quite. He’s only pretending to be asleep.”_ Sherlock nodded in Xander’s direction. John lingered on Sherlock’s lap for a few minutes. Not wanting to break contact, but knowing that Sherlock had work to do he finally got up, ran his hand along Sherlock’s back and walked over to the bags of food. After rummaging around for a few minutes John stood up, holding a box and laughing.

_ “Leave it to a bunch of Brits to bring tea to a Zombie Apocalypse! But, I don’t think we have a way to brew this.” _

_“Of course we do John! Which is brilliant, because I think a cup of tea is exactly what we need!”_ Sherlock got up, found an empty beaker, filled it with water, and placed it over a  Bunsen burner.

_“Would you look at that, my husband, the clever one.”_ John giggled as he tossed the tea to Sherlock. _“Now, if only I could find cups.”_ John rummaged through drawers and cabinets and eventually found Molly’s small stash of plates and mugs. _“Well, I guess I should be thankful that she spends most of her time down here.”_

_“Sherlock, we don’t have any sugar. I’m sorry.”_ John handed Sherlock a mug.

_ “It’s fine, I guess I’ll live.” _

_“Oi! Don’t say that, it wasn’t funny before, and its definitely not funny now.”_ John pulled up a chair and sat next to Sherlock. _“Just, do me a favor, don’t accidently get zombie guts in your tea and then drink it?”_

_“Do I smell tea?”_ Mycroft walked into the room with a smiling Greg behind him.

Sherlock look up, took in Mycroft’s ruffled hair, noted that one of his shit tails was not tucked in properly, and how the buttons on his vest were all askew.

_“Your fly is still down, Mycroft.”_ Sherlock winked at John and went back to work.

Trying hard not to laugh while Mycroft fixed his fly, John fixed two cups and handed one to Greg. But as he handed Mycroft his cup, he lost it, and soon John and Greg’s laughter filled the morgue. Mycroft let out a long sigh, glared at John, and walked over to his brother.

_“You will sleep tonight, Sherlock.”_ It was not a question, Mycroft was playing big brother now.

_“Yes, Mycroft,”_ Sherlock rolled his eyes, not bothering to look up at his brother. _“John and I already talked about it. I’m going to stay up with him, then do my watch, then go to sleep. That is, of course, if my big brother is ok with that.”_

Mycroft just nodded. Finishing his tea he turned to Greg. _“Sherlock will take second watch, do you want third, or should I?”_

_“I’ll take it, pet.”_ Greg put down his mug, walked over to Mycroft, put an arm around him and looked over at John and Sherlock.

_ “You know, I’m glad we’re together. For what it’s worth.” _

_“Same here, Greg… And, thank you for keeping Xander safe. Sherlock and I owe you so much.”_ John blinked away a few tears, he didn’t often get emotional, but he had been through almost losing Xander once.

_“Goodnight, Mycroft, Gregory.”_ Sherlock looked up, knowing where this was going, and not caring for the pleasantries.

_“Yes. Goodnight, then.”_ Mycroft led Greg to the beds, and soon they were curled up in each other's arms, fast asleep.

_“I’m sorry, Sherlock… but that,"_ Pointing to the sleeping form of Mycroft entangled in Greg’s, _“Is strange to see.”_

_ “Not any stranger than us at night, John. You were the one to taught me that everyone needs someone.” _

John shrugged, flicked the telly on and sat back, knowing that the next two hours could possibly be the longest two hours of his life.


	8. Chapter 8

About 15 minutes into his shift John was started out of his thoughts by an unearthly screech. Sherlock must have been started too, because there was a loud clatter and the sound of glass shattering, followed by, _“Shit_!”

Sherlock rushed over to John, and together they gaped at Molly. She was standing at the end of her rope, back arched, head thrown back, her fingers were contorted in awkward positions. And she was howling. It was a blood curdling howl. Looking over, John was only half surprised to find everyone still asleep.

_ “Sherlock, what do you suppose it wrong with her? Is there anything we can do?” _

_“You’re the doctor, John….”_ Sherlock shook his head, for once in his life he didn’t have an answer.

_ “My best guess is that she’s in pain… Just look at her. Sherlock, do you think we’d be able to give her morphine, without getting infected ourselves?” _

_ “Hmm, in this state, as long as we are quick, I think so.” _

Sherlock gathered up a syringe, morphine and a pair of long gloves meant for autopsies. _“Here, put these on. I want to keep you as safe as we can.”_

_“Right.”_  John put the gloves on, filled the syringe, tapped it to get any air bubbles out and assessed the situation. _"I'll go for her neck, I think that would be easier. It helps that her skin is so translucent..."_

_ "John, be careful. I'd rather not have to shoot you." _

_"Yeah, thanks for that, Sherlock."_  Moving as closely as he dared John quickly reached closer, jabbed the needle into Molly's neck, pressed down on the plunger and darted away. At first nothing happened, it was as if Molly didn't hadn't even noticed. But then she swatted at where John had just been. Within minutes, and for the first time since the boys had been there, she sat down against the pole and closed her eyes. John moved carefully with the needle and gloves, and placed them in the bio-hazard bin before he let out his grin. 

_“It worked!”_ John looked at Sherlock in disbelief. _“I don’t know if this helps us or not…  I don’t know what it did to her. I don’t even know if she was in pain. God, Sherlock… We don’t have any information, do we?”_

Sherlock sat down, put his head in his hands and groaned. _“Oh, John… John, John, John. I know so little. Mycroft and I cannot pinpoint the cause of the mutation. God, I hate not knowing.”_

 

John walked behind Sherlock and started massaging his shoulders. _“You’ll figure it out.”_

_“Why do you have so much faith in me, John?”_ Sherlock looked up at John with sad wonder in his eyes. He looked like a little boy, like Xander the first time he fell off his bike.  
  
 _“Because, Sherlock, you have never given me a reason to doubt you. Well, that one time with Magnussen, but that was hardly your fault. You did what you thought was best. Now, give me a kiss, and go back to work.”_

_“Yes, Captain.”_ Sherlock lifted his head and met John’s halfway, kissing him long and slow.  

John went back to the news, hoping for some new information, but it was all just the same. The few reporters that were still brave enough, or alive, to report had no new information.

An hour into his shift John looked up startled and met Sherlock’s gaze. _“What?”_ John mouthed. Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. John grabbed the glock and his browning and walked to the double doors. _“Bollocks. What the HELL are they doing here?”_

_“Who?”_ Sherlock looked confused.

_ “Bloody Team Rocket.” _

_“What?”_ Sherlock’s eyes shot open wide, anger flicking over his face like white hot fire. _“What the hell do they want?”_

_“Should I let them in?”_ John looked panicked at Xander who was still sleeping peacefully. _“I could just ignore them, and hope a zombie gets them.”_

_ “No, John… You’re the one always telling me to be nice to others.” _

_ “Curse you for getting morals now, Sherlock.” _

Jim’s seemingly carefree face appeared at the window, smiling in at John. _“Johnny boy! Let us in?”_

_ “Why?” _

_ “Because you are all going to die if you don’t.” _

_ “I think you two will die first.” _

John held his gaze and Jim did too, they stood there for what seems to be hours, but just in reality only minutes had passed.

_ “Open up, Captain.”  _ Moran's voice was chiding.

Moran always referred to John as Captain, maybe out of habit, maybe he wanted to remind John their days together. John wrinkled his nose, there was something about Moran that repelled him, he had no problem when Sherlock called him Captain, but when Sebastian Moran called him that, his blood just boiled.

_ “Just why would I do that? Why are you two pricks here?” _

_“We have something that Sherlock might want.”_ Jim said very matter-of-factly.

John rolled his eyes, he didn’t want to fall into yet another one of Moriarty’s traps.

_ “We don’t want to play games Jim.” _

_“This is not a game Johnny boy, I’m bloody serious, let me talk with your owner.”_ Jim placed his hand up against the window, between his palm and the glass was a small vial. The liquid in it was clear, with a slight reddish tint to it.

Sherlock perked up out of pure curiosity as he stood and slowly walked over to the door. Leveling his eyes at Jim he took a deep breath. _“You may come in. BUT if you even say ONE WORD to Xander, I will push you in reach of Molly_.” 

_“How is that a threat, Sherlock?”_ Jim nearly laughed.

As an answer, Sherlock moved the barricade enough to open the door wide enough for the two men to come in. Jim’s eyes fell on Molly and his face lost all color. Jim started to push past John and Sherlock, to go to Molly but Sherlock held out a hand and stopped him.

_ “The vial, Jim. What is it?” _

_“It is part of the original vaccine created.”_ Jim laughed and pulled his hand containing the vial away as Sherlock reached for it. _“Oooh, no you don’t, Sherlock. Before I hand this over, I need your… no! No! John’s word that should a cure be found, you’ll not withhold it from us.”_

Sherlock started to open his mouth but Jim held up a hand.

_“And, that you’ll see to it, to the best of your abilities, that no harm will come to us.”_ Looking quite proud Jim winked at Sherlock. _“Face it, Sherlock. You need me.”_

_“What the hell am I supposed to say to that? You beat up my husband,”_ John absentmindedly ran a finger along the scar on his lip. _“Kidnap my son, then disappear for seven years. Just to show up here, out of the blue, when the world is crashing down around us. Here I was thinking we were friends, and not even so much as a Christmas card!”_ Sherlock was beginning to shout, his voice dripping sarcasm.

_“Sherlock,”_ John placed a hand on Sherlock’s forearm. _“let’s just all work together, yeah? I hate saying it, but we need Jim, we need that vial.”_ He took a deep breath and nodded towards Sebastian. _“And having him here should prove to be a good tactical advantage.”_  Turning to face the pair John’s voice grew cold. _“This does not mean that either of you are forgiven. And if you so much as breath on my son, you’ll wish you never came here.”_

_“Ohh, Johnny boy!”_ Jim chuckled and gave Sebastian a triumphant look then handed the vial over to Sherlock. Sitting down at the small lab set up Sherlock got to work.

Jim walked over to Molly, hung his head and muttered something softly under his breath. _“I assume she tied herself up?”_ Sherlock just nodded in response. Seeming satisfied Jim went and sat down next to Sherlock. _“What are you doing?”_

_“Well... With the original vaccine, I can study the cell nuclei to determine the DNA that mutated and… hopefully eradicate it! Jim, I will probably never say this again, so listen closely.”_ Sherlock shot his eyes and looked at Jim for a split second. _“Thank you.”_

_“Sebastian, shall I show you what we have for firepower?”_ John shifted, and boldly stared at Moran.

_“Captain, are you forgetting my rank?”_ Moran tutted.

_“You do not deserve to be a Colonel, Moran.”_ John shook his head sadly, 

Nearing the end of his shift John walked over to Sherlock and gave Jim a pointed look. _“I need a moment alone with Sherlock, if you don’t mind.”_

_ “Mind? Hmm, I suppose not. Is there a safe place to have a shag?” _

_“Bathroom down the hall,”_ John rolled his eyes and as Jim and Sebastian were leaving he called after them. _“That’s where Greg and Mycroft had their shag earlier.”_ Jim just giggled.

_“Sherlock.”_ John sat down in the chair that had been vacated by Jim. _“Should we wake Greg and Mycroft up now, and let them know that we have company?”_

_“No, John. Let them sleep. I’ll tell Greg when I wake him. We’ll let him pass the news onto Mycroft.”_ Sherlock leaned over and kissed John and brushed a bit a hair off the side of his face. _“Go to sleep, John. I can handle them. I happen to have an Army Doctor for a husband, and he showed me how to use a gun.”_

_ “Alright, but wake me if anything happens?” _

_ “I won't have too. We both know you’ll wake up before I have a chance to alert you.” _

_“Right.”_

_“John?”_

_ “Yeah?” _

_“Sleep with a gun under your pillow, just in case. O_ k?”

John nodded, kissed Sherlock one more time and walked over to the beds. Picking one of the empty beds next to Xander he stuffed his glock under the pillow and wrapped an arm protectively around Xander. Despite the unnerving day, and the close proximity to Jim and Sebastian, John was soon fell into a fitful sleep full of dreams of the dark damp basement in 221C.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is taking me longer to finish than I had planned. I've been away the last two weekends, and work is keeping me very busy! I'll try to wrap things up soon!


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